


The Princes of the White City

by HerAwesomeShinyness



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Boromir is a Good Brother, Denethor is a terrible father, Fluff, Gen, Generic Wholesomeness, Pre-Canon, Sibling Bonding, by some definitions, heavily implied, in which i try not to shoehorn in too many headcanons, little dorks allowed outside on their own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-07 01:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerAwesomeShinyness/pseuds/HerAwesomeShinyness
Summary: Seeing his brother in distress at life in general and their father's expectations in particular, Boromir does what any enterprising, loving and protective young man would do: he convinces him to take an afternoon off to frolic in the fields.This somehow works, if not completely as intended.





	The Princes of the White City

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for the TRSB 2018, sorry it's late I was trying to make it perfect and lost track of time, as one does.
> 
> It was inspired by this amazing art by lucife56, which is really cute, and I fear I haven't done it justice: https://lucife56.tumblr.com/image/174151354247

“Come on, Mir, you’ve been so down recently. What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re hurting. Tell me, please? I’m just your dumb big brother, but I do want to help you be happy.”

“What do you mean, my dumb big brother? You’re perfect at everything you do! And I’m... not. I thought I was alright at history, at least, but my best at the subject I’m best at is still not even close to what Father wants! Obviously I can’t do anything properly, and in any case I can’t do anything about this. I’m just a failure.” He took a few deep breaths, realising he had been shouting at his brother, “Will you leave, now that I’ve told you?”

“But of course!”

Boromir stepped away from the wall he had been leaning against, and walked towards the door. He stopped next to his brother, and bent a little, as if to ruffle his hair.

He did not ruffle Faramir’s hair.

Instead he picked him up, slinging him over one shoulder, and walked out of the room. His intended destination was a service door, towards the back of the palace, and the hidden road that lead to it.

Its intended purpose was to bring goods to the palace without disturbing the peace of the court, but it was also useful for young princes who wanted to sneak out without having to explain themselves to too many people, while still being seen. It wouldn’t do to worry people.

Of course, usually when he took this road it was either alone or with a Faramir who was willing to be cheered up.

“You liar! You said you’d leave!” Faramir shouted, struggling in his brother’s grasp, not very effectively.

“I did say that, well done. You’re getting very good at listening and gathering information. And you’re obviously also skilled at using the information you gathered, because I did indeed lie to you, as is my privilege as your older brother who cares about you and wants you to get some fresh air, which is good for you.”

Faramir sighed and stopped struggling. It was useless, and it would be easier to make a run for it when his brother let go anyway.

“You are the worst brother in the history of brothers, you know?”

“I know, I know. Please indulge me for one day? I would like to see you smile, and I only ask for one day, not even a full one, in which to try and cheer you up.”

Faramir stayed silent.

“You must also remember that I am, for now, faster than you, and I will catch you if you try and run back to your room to mope.”

Faramir sighed. “Why are you doing this? Don’t you have better things to occupy your time with? Maybe things father wants you to do?”

Boromir had, in fact, been assigned duties by his father, but he had also been assigned a duty by his mother and by himself, some fifteen years earlier, and that was far more important.

Denethor would forgive him, in any case.

“Nah. And even if he had given me tasks of some sort, they would not be more important than you.”

“Boromir!” Faramir exclaimed, shocked, “You mustn’t say such things. You know father’s will is more important than us. And especially more than me.”

He suddenly found himself being lowered back to the floor, Boromir leaning down (though not as much as he had in the past) to catch his eyes as he very carefully, but firmly, kept his hands on Faramir’s shoulders.

“Faramir, you must understand this. You are the most important person in the world to me, because you are my little brother, and I love you, and I am responsible for your health and wellbeing of my own free will. It is a duty I took on voluntarily, and I am glad I made that choice, because you deserve to be happy, even if it is hard.”

Faramir blinked away tears at Boromir’s unusual seriousness and earnestness, and made a decision.

“If you feel like you _have to_  help me, then I will come with you. And I will try to focus on being happy.” He smiled, hesitantly. “You’re such a sap, Boromir, thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

Boromir smiled, sappily, then stood up straight again.

“Now, uh, may I keep carrying you? It’s fun, and I fear I won’t be able to do it much longer. You’re growing up so fast, little one, it’s scary.”

Faramir considered this carefully, but he knew the exact route his brother had wanted to take. There was no need to be carried.

A remark Boromir had made earlier rose to his mind, and he smiled.

“If you can catch me.”

Before he had even finished the sentence, he had run around Boromir, and by the time his brother managed to understand what was going on, turned around, and started running, he had already rounded the corner, and could see the service door they’d been headed for, thankfully wide open.

Behind him, faint for the air rushing past his ears, someone cried, “Cheater!”

He smiled, and kept running down the hall.

The alley outside, though mostly hidden from the city, was wide and smooth, normally a good thing, but not when he wanted to outrun Boromir, whose only weakness was his poor manoeuvrability.

He had a good lead, but it was very unlikely that he’d keep it long enough to reach the lower levels and their many winding alleys, where he had the advantage.

Unless...

Unless a cart happened to come up the road just that second, leaving him quite a lot of space to dodge around it and still take the next corner without slowing down. His chances had improved a lot in one go.

Boromir, who had been gaining on him, was considerably less happy to see the cart, and even less happy to see how close to a turn in the road it still was, leaving him with no choice other than to skid to a stop before crashing into the wall.

He could see Faramir in the distance, and though he immediately started running as fast as he could again, he knew he wouldn’t be able to reach him before he could turn into the lower city and hide himself in the twisting streets there.

At this point he could only hope that his brother would keep his word, and leave the city as Boromir had intended.

Faramir had never promised that, though.

It would be perfectly within his rights to misunderstand where Boromir had wanted to go, and then run back to the palace to be depressed and alone when he didn’t show up.

He could even legitimately make that mistake. As much as he understood his big brother, Faramir was still fourteen, and capable of errors, if not nearly as much as their father liked to think.

He had just finished this thought when he turned a corner just in time to see Faramir, farther down the road, slip into the first side street.

It was down to hope then. He kept running, banging his shoulder into the wall as he turned into the same street Faramir had.

It would be useless to try and follow anyone in the mess of alleys and people that constituted most of the lower levels, so Boromir ran as directly as he could towards the gate down.

Easier said than done, when he had to keep slowing down to dodge around people that seemed to appear out of nowhere, and occasionally stop to reassure them that nothing was going on, there was no urgency at all, he was just looking for his brother, who was for once behaving as a boy his age should, and yes he was also worried for Faramir sometimes, but he was healthy and smart and not so stubborn that he wouldn’t speak of problems, and yes he was was very proud of him, how couldn’t he be, Faramir was amazing, so smart, and, how funny, so quick on his feet, sorry he had to go, brothers don’t catch themselves.

Bragging about Faramir was one of his favourite hobbies, of course, but it nearly tripled the time it took him to reach anything at all.

It did remind him of the easiest way of tracking his brother’s progress through the city, which proved, as he passed gate after gate and shouted questions at the guards there, that Faramir had indeed been moving down the city, and apparently slowing down, if the the guardsman on the gate to the first level was to be believed.

Something must have delayed him as he passed through the second level, it was the only thing that explained him suddenly losing most of the five minutes he had had on him in passing the gate before that.

Or maybe he’d gotten hurt? No. The guards would have noticed an injury significant enough to slow him down so much, and told him.

He would find out soon, the crowds were finally thinning as he approached the gates and Faramir should come into view soon.

Unless, of course, he’d decided to run out of the city without waiting for him, which was certainly possible from the little brat.

Faramir had barely started breathing normally again when he heard the sound of people shouting in confusion, before realising who they were shouting at and awkwardly giving some sort of respectful greeting. In short, the sound of his brother being in the general vicinity.

As Boromir appeared out of the crowd, Faramir carefully leaned against the wall and smiled at him, kind and yet puzzled, not _at all_  condescendingly, by how his big brother had lost. Lost! Imagine that.

Giving up his comfortable lead, and therefore tiring himself out even more, was definitely worth seeing his brother’s face as he realised Faramir had had so much free time he’d managed to buy them lunch, and himself a book, on the way.

It was a book he already had, a collection of folk tales from the White Mountains, but Boromir running up to him red-faced and panting as he calmly leafed through a book was definitely a sight he could learn to enjoy.

Mostly because it was hilarious.

“You... you little brat. I hate you,” Boromir managed to get out.

Faramir, the little brat in question, giggled, actually _giggled_  and said, “Well, you wanted me to get some fresh air and run around a bit, didn’t you? It’s your own fault, really.”

Boromir sighed deeply and started walking toward the gate, ignoring the annoyance he had saddled himself with, and allowing himself to smile at how fast Faramir’s mood had changed. Just as planned.

It didn’t take a lot of walking to get to a small pond, below the level of the road so that they might not be seen immediately, definitely not long enough for Boromir’s determined indifference to pass beyond hilarious.

When they got there, Boromir took a deep breath and fell to the ground dramatically. As he spread himself among the flowers he slowly let it out and stared up at the sky, before looking behind him and smiling at Faramir, who was still standing, the lunch basket he had bought hanging from his arm.

“So, Mir, what do you want to do today?” he asked, smiling.

“This was your idea, you big lump, did you not have any plans? Again?” Faramir wasn’t really as upset as he probably sounded, but his brother’s tendency to just do things without thinking was always annoying, especially knowing that he was capable of planning. He was a good strategist! He could think things through, he just refused to! It was infuriating.

Boromir laughed, curling in on himself before splaying his limbs out in the grass again.

“We’ll think of something, don’t worry. It’ll be a good afternoon.” He patted the ground beside his head. “Now sit down and relax.”

He closed his eyes, basking in the sunlight until he heard Faramir sigh and carefully sit down, accompanied by the soft thump of a basket being set down in a slightly indelicate manner. Dropped from as high up as a fourteen-year-old could reach while sitting down. They were the same thing really.

“Just relax for five seconds and it’ll be a lot easier for both of us to think of things to do.”

Faramir was, undeniably, a far more anxious person than his brother, and achieving the same level of relaxation as his brother didn’t seem particularly likely, but he tried to breathe deeply and let his shoulders slump down.

The breeze, blowing past the city from the South, was sweeping over his face, and he felt it ruffle his hair. Minas Tirith was too far from the mouths of Anduin for it to be truly possible, but the scent of the sea briefly overwhelmed his senses, and he felt like it would take merely the smallest nudge for him to lose contact with the ground and float away, to be borne away North.

“Hey. Hey Mir,” Boromir’s voice rang through him, and he slammed his eyes open, the illusion gone.

“What is it, Boromir?” Faramir sounded startled. Maybe he had actually been relaxing.

“That book on your desk earlier, it was about botany, wasn’t it?” The book in question had been closed, and the cover read, very distinctly, ‘The Native Plants of Ithilien’ so the question was somewhat stupid, but Boromir needed to get his brother to loosen up and talk, and he didn’t have a dignity when it came to Faramir.

“It was, yes, but I mostly took it for the illustrations. They’re very beautiful, I can show you my favourites when we go back!” Faramir grew more and more happy and excited as he spoke, and Boromir knew that even if this excursion had unintended consequences, it would’ve been worth it.

“Hey Mir,” he said, picking a flower next to his elbow, “can all your new education help you tell me what this is?”

Faramir rolled his eyes.

“First, it was a book about vegetation in Ithilien, so it wouldn’t help. Second, I just told you I was only looking at the illustrations.” He paused to actually look at the flower. “And last but not least, that’s a daisy, Boromir. You should know what it is even without having ever seen a book.”

“I was just testing you.” With a bit of luck, Boromir just hadn’t looked at the flower, instead of being unaware of what a _daisy_  looked like.

“I’m sure you were.” As it wasn’t guaranteed though, he had every right to make fun of his brother.

“I was! And I’ll continue. What’s this one?”

“That’s clover. White clover, to be specific. Boromir, you could at least pretend to _look_  at the poor plants you rip out before you try to pretend you’re testing me. I _know_  you’re not this stupid”

“You underestimate me, Mir, I am far stupider than this!” He looked at Faramir’s extremely unimpressed expression (extreme even for a boy his age) and laughed, deciding to change strategy a little, “Very, I will stop. But only because you’re the one asking. How about we use these flowers constructively, instead! I know my little flower expert can make flower crowns.”

He twisted around to look at his brother and smile encouragingly.

“Um. No.”

Boromir’s expression dropped, and Faramir felt his heart drop with it.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t mean it like that! I just. I just don’t know how to make flower crowns. I wouldn’t even know where to start! I’m sorry, I’d love to make something with you, but I don’t know how.”

“Faramir! Mir, it’s alright, I was only startled, don’t worry. Everything’s fine, please don’t be scared of me.” Boromir scrambled to his feet, and carefully hugged his little brother, who was _shaking_ , to his chest, “Mir, please don’t worry about upsetting me, I love you, you can say whatever you want to me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn't, you didn't scare me. I'm fine, really. I know not to be afraid of you, Boromir, nothing's wrong.” He took a deep breath and tried to lean away from Boromir's hold. “I honestly don't know where came over me. It was probably just. Surprise at being outside after so long cooped up.”

He hadn't succeeded in extricating himself from his brother's arms completely, but he had managed enough that he could look straight into his eyes, not at all begging Boromir to forget about the scene he had just made.

Boromir smiled, the special smile he reserved only for him, and Faramir knew he had succeeded.

“Of course, Mir. How about we switch to eating the lunch you bought us, instead?”

“What do you mean, _us_. I bought _myself_  lunch. Just because it's enough for two doesn't mean it's intended for _you_ ,” Faramir said, lifting his nose in the air like the most pretentious of nobles, then looked back down, smiling, “I bought that cheese you like, but I'm not so sure about the bread.”

“I'm sure the bread is just fine, Mir, don't worry.” Boromir smiled, and ruffled his brother's hair. For real this time.

The bread was, indeed, fine, and Boromir couldn't help but think it was made even better by Faramir's smile at not having to worry so much. At being encouraged to behave like the child he still was.

Faramir, similarly, found the rather bland bread and cheese better than anything he had ever eaten, and he couldn't stop smiling in Boromir's general direction.

He had the best brother. It was the only explanation.

As they finished eating, Boromir seemed to grow more and more distracted. Pensive, maybe?

“Boromir? What's wrong?”

He started, and smiled sheepishly.

“Nothing's wrong, Mir, don't worry.” He tried to soften his smile, be as reassuring as possible.

“Why not? I understand if you don't think I can help, but I'd be glad to try. I don't want you to worry.”

His brother, Boromir thought, was far too sweet for his own good.

“I said don't worry about it, it’s a relatively simple matter that I will find a solution to once I’ve had some time to mull it over.”

Faramir blinked innocently and sweetly, “Whatever it is seems to be troubling you quite a lot, please let me help you out?”

Faramir was also a manipulative little monster, but at least he used his younger brother powers for good. How was he supposed to resist such things?

“I’m just worried about you. You were so upset earlier. Mir, we were supposed to cheer you up!” He hadn’t actually meant to say that. But such was the power Faramir had over him, apparently.

Faramir opened his mouth, but then stopped, blushing, and restarted his sentence.

“This did cheer me up, though. It's nice to know you want to spend time with me, I guess.”

“That's good to know! It's always useful to learn new ways to make you happy!” Boromir laughed, briefly. “But ‘nice’ isn't what I wanted from today, so we have to figure out something better. I'm terribly sorry, but I'm not letting you back into the city until you reach _at least_  ‘content’. And I do hope you have a quick solution handy, because I am not mature enough to say no to tickling you.”

Faramir smiled a little, and leaned into his brother, hugging him as tightly as he could.

“I have a book, I can reach ‘content’ pretty fast if you quiet down a little and let me read. It's very relaxing here, it's the perfect environment.”

“But then I’d have nothing to do beyond being your pillow. Mir, I can’t just be quiet and you know that. How about you read to me instead?” Boromir said, “you always say you need to practice speaking to people, and reading aloud is a step in that direction.”

Faramir hummed in vague agreement, but didn't loosen his hug, nor show any intention of ever wanting to do so. He was so adorable sometimes, Boromir couldn’t understand how people could ever dislike their siblings.

“Mir? It's not that I dislike hugging you, but I don't think this is the most comfortable reading position.”

Faramir hummed, louder, and somehow even more vaguely, before very slowly detaching himself from his brother.

It was, he felt, not his fault. Boromir was extremely huggable, and deserved it, with his unrelenting kindness and patience.

“Fine. It’s actually a book you used to read to me, that one with the legends and fairy tales of the White Mountains, so we can see how my reading abilities compare to yours,” he said, before turning back towards the now nearly empty basket he had brought.

When he turned back, Boromir was settling into the grass again, his hands behind his head, apparently determined to spend the afternoon staring at the sky, instead of anything else more interesting.

Maybe he was hoping the fairy tale would lull him to sleep, as it once did for Faramir.

“So,” he said, as he tried to find a position that would allow him to comfortably lean against his brother and read, “which of these wondrous tales do you want me to read for you today, Mir?”

He was knocked off the comfortable spot on Boromir's stomach he had finally managed to find, as his brother recognised the opening sentence to many, many evenings’ readings, and started laughing like a loon.

As soon as he had caught his breath again, Boromir relaxed into the grass, and tried to actually think about it. He hadn't seen that book in years, but he had read it enough times to remember some of Faramir's favourites.

“There was that one, you remember, the one that was supposed to be incredibly ancient, 'The Maiden and the Bearfolk’? That one was fun. Let's read that one.”

He had read that one enough times he could probably still recite it by heart, but it was fun, and he knew Faramir still loved it dearly.

Faramir huffed, but from it sounded strangled, as if forced out through a smile.

“You only remembered that one because I keep telling you about it, didn't you?” he muttered, then continued, without waiting for an answer, “it’s not my fault it’s so interesting! Every scholar agrees that it probably dates back to the first humans to settle there! It might even be older! How am I supposed to be anything other than incredibly fascinated by it!”

“I know, you’ve told me that too,” Boromir said, smiling at his brother’s enthusiasm, “but I promise I asked for this one because I like it, it’s a very good story.”

“Very well then,” Faramir said, sitting down, mostly not on his brother, “I will read it, try to appreciate the tale.”

The story, which was actually called ‘Araldir, the King, and the Bear King’ was in the middle of the collection so it took some time before he could start reading. He was also delayed, but not very much at all, really, by the illustrations that accompanied some of the other stories.

When he reached the right page he coughed, and started reading.

“In the old times, before wars and kingdoms, long before Numenor arose, there lived a folk in the mountains. They had travelled, of old, but had lost all desire of it when they encountered the soft slopes of the mountains, warmed always by the noonday Sun, and lived there in peace. Among this folk, one day was born a girl, who was named Araldir, and was in all things, growing and running and thinking and making and much more, the quickest of all her peers. Her quickness, when she was grown enough, brought her only unhappiness, and she wished to be slower, for she had trouble being satisfied with her life in the peaceful mountains.”

Here he paused, and checked to see that Boromir hadn’t fallen asleep during the introduction, as his brother had done every time he read to him.

Boromir was still awake,smiling lazily into the sky, and, as Faramir looked, he turned around to stare at him quizzically, confused by the pause in the narration.

Faramir smiled and continued.

“One day, Araldir decided there was only one solution to her loneliness and boredom: to leave the mountains and see more of the world, and one day, when she had learned enough to be satisfied, return to her people and teach them everything she had seen. Her parents and her siblings and all the village people tried to stop her, for they knew the world was vast and dangerous and they did not want to lose Araldir to it. But she would not be dissuaded, and she said, _If you will not allow me to go, will not give me a piece of bread and a waterskin, will not wave goodbye to me as I walk down on the other side of the mountain, then I will leave nonetheless, and in leaving I will stumble in the dark, and I will be hungry and thirsty as I walk, and you will not know my path, but I will leave whatever you do or do not do_.

“And they knew she was telling the truth. So her mother and her father hugged her and blessed her, and her little brothers and sisters made bread and gathered berries and cut cheese for her, and all the people of the village gave her gifts that may be useful, like a small knife, and spare shoes, and a warm hat, and charms with warm magics woven in them, and lucky pebbles from the streams, which were perfectly round, and a beautiful scarf, and a long strong rope. When all these gifts had been given they followed her up the mountain, and stopped at the highest point and waved at her as she walked down, until she was so far they could not see her anymore.

“Araldir reached the bottom of the mountain, and a great plain, and walked into it. Here she saw many things, but she did not find them wondrous enough, so she kept walking, until she found a great river, and walked along it. Here she saw many things, but she did not find them interesting enough, so she kept walking. Many things she saw, beautiful and hideous and fascinating and boring, but none were enough for her, so she kept walking.

“One day as she walked a dreadful storm came upon her, and she ran from it, and ran and ran, but it did not abate and she could find no shelter other than a small sad tree. As she huddled under it, cold and miserable, she saw, reflected in her little knife, a light like a fire. So she looked up, and there! A cave in the hill before her, which she had not seen before, was glowing invitingly, and not even very far. So she got back under the pouring rain and into the screaming wind (it was not much different than it had been under the tree) and ran forward, tripping on nearly every rock on the hill, and slipping on the mud and the wet grass, but she ran and ran, until she ran straight into the cave.

“Inside, the cave was warm and inviting, but also far, far larger than it had looked, and, behind the fire, covered in a strange carpet. It was very interesting, so Araldir walked forward, and as she walked her eyes adjusted to the light, and she saw that at the end of the huge cave there were two large archways, the likes of which she had never seen before, the one on the right carved and painted with people dancing and singing and hunting and living, much as her people did, far to the South. The one on the left had similar scenes, but it was not people doing those thing, it was bears!”

Here Boromir gave the required small gasp.

“She stepped forward, for surely she had seen wrong and would be corrected as soon as she got closer. But as she took her second step, she noticed something far, far more important: she had been about to step on a bear. The cave was _full_  of them. It was not a carpet she had seen, but many, many bears, sleeping. That was the scariest thing, but not the strangest. Among the bears, mostly on them, there were people! Human people just like her! And they were asleep on the bears with no fear or worry at all!”

Boromir gasped again, this time far louder.

“As she jumped back, the small stones under her feet cracked, and a bear, the closest, moved. It stood up, taller and taller, until it was looking down at her from more than twice her height. There it stopped, as if waiting for her to talk. Araldir had been raised well, and she knew how ill-mannered it was of her to just run into someone’s home, so she looked up at the bear, did a small curtsey, and said, _Please excuse me, kind bear, for so rudely intruding on your home, but the storm outside is dreadful, and I can only beg of you to let me stay here for the night. I can be very small and very quiet, and will not disturb you or your people any more than I have_.

“The bear nodded, and lifted a single, massive arm. It pointed towards the left archway, and nodded again. It was obvious to Araldir what she was expected to do, so she started to walk deeper into the cave. She stopped very quickly though, as she noticed that her wet and muddy shoes would probably disturb everyone sleeping as she passed by them.

“So she sat down on the floor, took off her shoes, and put them by the fire, then dug deep into her pack and took out the warm, soft, _dry_  shoes she had been gifted when she left, and slowly, careful not to make any noise, walked around the entire cave, and under the arch, never looking back. Beyond it, she saw another room, much smaller, and at the very end of it there stood a magnificent throne, with another bear sitting on it, much larger than the first and wearing a wide jewelled robe and a crown.

“The bear looked at her and said, _Little human, I am the king of these people, and you have trespassed into our home, which we do not take kindly to, but because of the great storm outside I will have mercy on you, and I will only ask you to stay with us forever, so that you become not an intruder, but one of us._  

"Araldir was scared, and she would’ve taken the Bear King’s offer, but the idea of being forced to stay scared her even more, so she said, as politely as she could, _Lord Bear, I am sorry that I have disturbed you and your people, and I would do all in my power to make it up to you, but I have promised to go back to my family and I will not be made a liar._

“The Bear King was very impressed by how fearless she was, but he did not show it, so that she trembled a little in her shoes under his fierce gaze. After a long, long, minute, he said, _Maybe an arrangement can be found, if you can prove that you can be trusted. You will leave my chamber, and go through the right archway, and perhaps we will find a trial that you may stand._

“Araldir bowed her head, and turned on her heel, and left the room without looking at him again. The bear by the entrance had gone back to sleep, and now a tall woman, wearing a tunic with colourful embroidery, stood up from near the fire as soon as she saw Araldir appear. She looked her up and down, and gestured impatiently towards the right archway, so Araldir nodded, and walked inside this third chamber.

“Inside was another throne, just as magnificent as the first, and upon it sat a giant of a man, his broad form obscured by a robe similar to that of the Bear King, and wearing a crown just as he had. Seeing her, the man smiled broadly, and said, _I am the king of these people, and you have intruded upon our home, so tell, me, traveller, what can you do to show me I can trust you with the knowledge of my folk?_

“Araldir smiled, and said, _As I said to the other king, I am no liar, and have no wish to be one. I will promise to you not to tell anyone of your folk and of anything I learn of you, and I will keep that promise. If you wish, I will stay here until you are sure that you trust me, and I can assure you that day will come._  

"The King laughed at her confidence, and said, _Very well, then, the Bear King and I shall give you tasks, that you will fulfill for the good of our people until we are satisfied. And when that day comes you will be free to leave. Is this acceptable?_

“ _What is your first task, oh king?_  Araldir asked him, for she wanted to keep travelling, and she had no time for nonsense. _I would know your name, traveller._ The King said, still smiling at her. _I am called Araldir._  She answered, rather rudely, one might say, for this was a king she was talking to. Still, he laughed, and said, _Then, Araldir, I would ask you to go to the Bear King and ask what his first task for you is._ ”

And Araldir did. Over and over again the two kings made her do inane, or boring, or even dangerous things, and over and over, with her quick wit and quick feet she completed them. It was a rather long tale, and got repetitive after a while, which explained why it had been used so much as a bedtime story. Faramir distinctly remembered falling asleep in the middle of the tasks quite a few times.

He had to admit, he wasn’t quite sure how Boromir was still awake, for all his energy, his brother was unfortunately a bit too old for the childish excitement for twists one had already read too many times that had kept Faramir himself awake during so many repetitions of this story.

Surely reading the same story so many times would make it hideously boring, especially when read by someone whose voice kept breaking in the middle of long sentences and who had to stop to giggle before he could deliver the big reveal, that the two kings were the same person and the people of the cave were skinchangers with a peculiar sense of humour, with the appropriate tone.

The king, as was usual in such tales, was so impressed by Araldir’s resourcefulness that he asked for her hand in marriage, and she, as was a lot less usual, refused him, reminding him again of her promise to her family. That could explain why Boromir liked it so much, especially because his attention started to wane immediately after, even though all that was left of the story was the explanation for how this story was known: the king, having seen Araldir’s devotion to the truth, decided to let her go on the condition that she never tell where the skinchangers lived, and so, when she eventually returned to her people, they, and not the location of their cave, were a part of her story, the only one considered interesting enough to be passed down so far as to be included in the book they were reading.

As Faramir finished the tale, he looked up at his brother, anxious for his opinion perhaps, and Boromir flashed him a smile.

“I’d forgotten how long that one was, look how low the sun has gotten. I can’t believe we didn’t notice earlier, you’re too good at this.” It was actually somewhat worrying, disappearing for a whole afternoon like this was likely to get them into trouble. And very likely to get _him_  into trouble.

Still, he thought, as he started to get up, seeing his little brother smile like that after he had been so upset was worth more than anything else in the world.

When he reflexively reached for Faramir’s hand as they walked back towards Minas Tirith, his brother took it and didn’t let go.


End file.
